eyes of his mind. Those eyes saw only Lesbia.

'No, perhaps it hardly matters,' answered Maulevrier, with suppressed
anger. 'The man is not worth talking about or thinking about. What is
he? Only the best, truest, bravest fellow I ever knew.'

'There are shepherds and guides in Grasmere of whom we could say almost
as much,' said Lady Maulevrier, 'yet you would scarcely expect me to
encourage one of them to pay his addresses to your sister? Pray spare us
all nonsense-talk, Maulevrier. This business is very well ended. You
ought never to have brought Mr. Hammond here.'

'I am sure of that now. I am very sorry I did bring him.'

'Oh, the man will not die for love. A disappointment of that kind is
good for a young man in his position. It will preserve him from more
vulgar entanglements, and perhaps from the folly of a too early
marriage.'

'That is a mighty philosophical way of looking at the matter.'

'It is the only true way. I hope when you are my age you will have
learnt to look at everything in a philosophical spirit.'

'Well, Lady Maulevrier, you have had it all your own way,' said the
young man, walking up and down the room in an angry mood. 'I hope you
will never be sorry for having come between two people who loved each
other, and might have made each other happy.'

'I shall never he sorry for having saved my granddaughter from an
imprudent marriage. Give me your arm, Maulevrier, and let me hear no
more about Mr. Hammond. We have all had quite enough of him,' said her
ladyship, as the butler announced dinner.

CHAPTER XIII.

'SINCE PAINTED OR NOT PAINTED ALL SHALL FADE.'

Fraeulein Mueller and her charge returned from St. Bees after a sojourn of
about three weeks upon that quiet shore: but Lady Lesbia did not appear
to be improved in health or spirits by the revivifying breezes of the
ocean.

'It is a dull, horrid place, and I was bored to death there!' she said,
when Mary asked how she had enjoyed herself. 'There was no question of
enjoyment. Grandmother took it into her head that I was looking ill, and
sent me to the sea; but I should have been just as well at Fellside.'

This meant that between Lesbia and that distinctly inferior being, her
younger sister, there was to be no confidence. Mary had watched the
life-drama acted under her eyes too closely not to know all about it,
and was not inclined to be so put off.

That pale perturbed countenance of John Hammond's, those eager inquiring